Verbal Contortions
by digthewriter
Summary: Draco is caught kissing Harry in the coat closet.


I don't know if I could have blamed the Firewhisky Blaise had been serving me all evening.

I probably could have, but I knew that wasn't it. I also couldn't blame being caught in the coat closet with _him_ and then fleeing on anything else but my own cowardice.

Of course, I had noticed him since the second he'd walked in through the doors. It probably wouldn't have been that quick—me noticing him—if I hadn't _happened_ to look over when a woman squealed and dropped her drink.

I had simply glanced over to see the commotion and then there he was—all in his Harry Potter glory—walking shoulder to shoulder with Ron Weasley.

_Sigh_

He'd looked at me not long after and held my gaze.

_Where was a Time Turner when you needed one?_

That certainly was surprising, however. I raised my eyebrow, uncertain if it was me who he was looking at, but then he smiled. That stupid smile he'd give me when we'd see each other in hallway at work.

_Stupid hallways._

So yes, there I was, holding an empty glass, gawking as if I'd never seen Harry Potter before. When, in fact, I saw him every day. We never interacted much as I mostly kept my dealings with Granger or Lovegood, and if I'd known any better, I would have left the party the moment he'd graced it with his presence.

_Textbook Draco Malfoy move_.

But Blaise had stopped me. He'd filled my empty glass and then had kept filling it.

"Didn't realise this was one of your things…" Potter said to me when I made my way out of the loo—thanks to the drinks Blaise supplied.

"I'm here with a friend."

"I should hope so," Potter said, and I frowned in confusion. "I mean, Zabini is straight. If he was your date, I'd be worried for you."

"I'm well aware Blaise is courting Ms Weasley." At that, Potter snorted. "What was _that_?"

He looked away from me and into the empty hallway we were standing in. Another stupid hallway. And now, this time, he was speaking to me. In that moment, I wasn't sure how I felt about that incident. Potter and me. _Talking_.

_Could I just melt into the floor and wither away?_

"Ginny isn't much for Pureblood ways—"

"Blaise has every intention of pursuing a meaningful relationship. He isn't going to rush into anything." Why was I defending Pureblood courtship rules to Potter? What was my point? Why _were_ we talking?

Naturally, Potter raised an eyebrow, and I couldn't decide if he was intrigued or insulted. "Ginny likes him too, you know."

"I'm sure she does. Blaise is a highly sought after bachelor. His name isn't tainted with…" I stopped to clear my throat. "It isn't tainted like some other people."

Spoiler alert: I was talking about myself.

"Nobody cares about that anymore. And Ginny is also highly sought after." Potter's tone was defensive, as well, and fuck me for being intrigued by it. "I'm passing along the message perhaps Zabini could pick up the pace."

He looked at me as if I was supposed to know what he meant. As if we weren't simply mortal enemies in our teenage years and now we were supposed to talk about our friends rushing it in and having sex.

"Hmm. Didn't realise you were delivering a message to expedite sexual release in your ex-girlfriend's new relationship."

"What?" Potter looked at me, baffled. "_What_?"

"And with _that_ witty retort, I must bid you adieu." I nodded once at Potter and started to walk away when he grabbed my arm.

"Malfoy, wait…"

_"Mr Potter, may I have a word—"_ A woman's voice came out of nowhere, and I felt Potter's grip on my arm tighten.

"Shit! This way…" Potter grasped my elbow, hard, and yanked me away. In a moment's notice, I was in a dark cupboard with robes, coats, and travelling cloaks floating about.

"Potter, this is a—"

"Shh. She'll hear you," Potter whispered, or more, whispered angrily.

_Well, excuse me, for having manners!_

"Who is _she_?" I impatiently whispered in return. Not sure why. I should have been loud, got ourselves caught before—well, I shouldn't have been in a cupboard to begin with. I should have resonated my anger with the situation. I should have resonated my anger of Potter touching me without my approval.

I tend to resonate my anger in most situations.

Potter didn't answer me.

"Potter, I don't live in closets," I said after a long silence where Potter seemed to be listening for activity on the other side of the door.

"I know, that's what I like about you," he said.

"_What_?" Now, it was my turn to be baffled.

"_Lumos_," Potter said and there was light, and I realised how close Potter was standing. A small chime came from above us, and I looked up. "Mistletoe," he added.

"Fuck my life," seemed like the appropriate response. I hated themed parties. I hated holiday parties. I hated sporadic-mistletoe themed parties. Oh yes, it was a thing when it came to Blaise.

He may have been cordial in his courting ways but he was also a prankster. That bastard.

"Wow, that's an intense reaction if there was one," Potter said, sounding amused. "To mistletoe."

I looked down at him and stared for a very long time. Time had stood still, and I watched, as Potter's reaction went from amused, to solemn, to intrigued, and then…aroused. Potter wanted to kiss me. Why did I have a feeling if there hadn't been mistletoe present, I still would have ended up so close to Potter? And I would have _still_ ended up desiring to kiss him.

_Stupid desire._

As if it was even possible, Potter took a step closer to me. I stepped back. There wasn't much space to go—my back pressed against the softness of the discarded winter garments as Potter's chest pressed against mine.

Still, he was waiting.

Either for my consent or for it to be my kiss. I tilted my head towards him and closed my eyes.

_Like a complete fool, because what if he'd rejected me? _

What if this was all a game and Potter only wanted to make a fool of me? My panic lasted all of two seconds because, Potter's cold, chapped lips were against mine.

It was such a rough sensation. I'd never kissed a man (or woman) who didn't moisturize. Maybe Potter wasn't looking to impress anyone tonight, and then, had ended up with _me_ in the literal closet.

It wasn't the best kiss.

The angles were all wrong; I was feeling claustrophobic as it was ridiculously stuffy in there. Besides, someone had clearly smoked a million fags before arriving to the party and it was obvious by their outer garment.

Potter moaned and parted his mouth as my tongue slipped in.

It was the best kiss.

He placed his hand on my hip, nudging his knee in between—and then the door opened.

"_Harry_?" Weasley, horrified.  
"_Mr Potter_?" the same woman, scandalised.  
"_Draco_." Blaise. Slytherin pride.

"Get off me," I said to Potter, shoving him away, and ran out of that cupboard which had been a heavenly place mere seconds before.

0-0-0

The great thing about working in lower management level at the Ministry was I had two weeks of paid holiday before returning to work. Before returning to a job where everyone would eventually find out I snogged Potter in a wardrobe.

Evidently, the wizarding world found out on Christmas Eve.

_OFFICE ROMANCE?_

_The Saviour of the Wizarding World Caught Tongue-tied with Former Schoolmate and Now Colleague. Friend or Foe?_

_ARE YOU DESPERATE ENOUGH TO TAKE THE CHANCE?_

"_What?_"

Who were they calling desperate? Was I the desperate one? I was approached by Potter. He was the one who dragged me into—

What was the point? _I_ had run away looking mortified.

* * *

_The only thing that comes knocking on the door after the _Prophet_ has mentioned you, is more bad news._

This time, it was Potter.

When I opened the door, Potter looked better than he had the evening before. I was still in my night clothes, and quite certain my hair was sticking up from the back.

It was a bad morning.

I released an exasperated sigh. Why was he doing this to me? "I reckon it'd be rude if I didn't invite you in," I said.

Potter shrugged, gave me a once over, and then smirked. I hated him.

I moved out of the way and he entered my home. My heart was racing and if I'd had my morning coffee, I would have had the decency to check out his arse as he walked by.

Obviously, I was still half asleep.

_I wanted to check out his arse_. And wasn't that just a topic for another day?

"By the way…I spoke with Blaise after you fled." Potter turned to look at me once he was in the middle of my sitting room. His travelling cloak was all dark green, and sparkly, and it suited him so well, I wanted to rip his clothes off.

"Yes?" was what I said.

Potter smirked. "He's taking Ginny away to Nice for the weekend after Christmas Day."

"How incredible. You've helped your friend scratch an itch," I said rolling my eyes.

Although I was feeling jealous for the fact Blaise was going to have a lot of sex this weekend, I was also worried, wondering if his love interest would drop him after she'd had her wicked way with him. But— Potter seemed genuine enough. If he said Ginny fancied Blaise then she wasn't going to use him and discard him.

Perhaps Potter and the Weasleys didn't care about the Pureblood _ways,_ but Blaise's reputation _would_ be tarnished.

"Merlin, you're so fucking full of yourself."

"I'm afraid I don't understand." I said. And, I'm genuine.

Why was Potter here if not to make me feel better about what happened last night? If not here to speak to me about my best friend and his happiness?

"Blaise is more like a brother to me than anything else. I'm glad Ms Weasley is interested in him, but if she only uses him for his looks and— then if she decides to move on…"

"I hope you know this hasn't been about _her_," Potter said, taking a step closer to me. Funny how we started to _end_ up in these positions.

"It isn't?"

"I know what the _Prophet_ says about her and other athletes. Or for anyone who might be a celebrity and doesn't gush all over one of their reporters—Ginny is a good girl, okay." He seemed to cringe on his own words and refocused. "She's my friend. She's a human being. She likes to have fun, go out, all the things the wizarding society would like to frown upon. Especially women. She's had her fun, but she _likes_ Zabini. She's not going to fuck around on him. She's never done that—no matter what the ex-boyfriends have told the reporters at the _Prophet_. But… can you at least even fucking acknowledge _this_, Malfoy…?"

Potter looked livid.

"Care to elaborate?" I ask tentatively, shrugging, because well yes, I was, and still am _that_ arsehole.

I found Potter…as someone I'd rather not think about. Ever since I was a boy, my life had been filled with stories of the Potter family, and people who were in the _Order_. So, as an adult who left Hogwarts, eventually, on relatively good terms…I tried not to fuck with the norm.

Potter was not the norm.

I preferred to avoid him.

Except he was always there and last night, I'd kissed him, and today, he was in my flat.

"You and me, Malfoy," Potter said, looking vexed. "I've been trying to get your attention for ages—"

"I frown upon co-workers entangling themselves in office romance," I said, immediately. It was true. Even if I wanted to be tangled with Potter. The idea had its merits.

Potter released a sigh and rolled his eyes. I wanted to smack him. "There isn't anything wrong with being friends, is there?"

I shrugged. Merlin, I wanted coffee. "I don't kiss my friends."

"So you don't date people you work with and you don't kiss your friends."

See? He understood.

"What am I then?"

"A mistake," I said, and immediately regretted it. I didn't mean that.

"You don't mean that."

Hell, had I said that out loud? I cleared my throat and tried again, "Potter…"

"Come to the Burrow with me on New Year's Eve."

"As _what_?"

"As my date!" he looked at me, indignant. "I want you to be my New Year's kiss." This time I expected Potter to cringe again but he looked genuine.

I shook my head and headed towards the kitchen. It was obvious Potter wasn't going to be leaving anytime soon, and I could no longer function without my morning routine. I had figured he'd follow me, and he did.

I poured two cups of coffee, handing him one, obviously—it was only polite. Then, I started on the breakfast. Potter only stared at me.

"What?" I snapped finally when the silence in the room was daunting and Potter was watching me the entire time.

"Are you making me breakfast?" he asked, speaking slowly.

"No. I'm making myself breakfast. If you're still here, you can have some. It's not like I'm rude and will only make you watch."

"I like to watch…" Potter said softly, looking at the floor.

An irritated sigh escaped me, but that was my only reaction. Potter made himself comfortable as he sat on the stool by the kitchen island and started talking about his ex-girlfriend.

_Stuff of legends, really. Kiss a war hero, and he wants to talk about how his ex-girlfriend needs to have sex. _

"You know, Ginny didn't even want to say yes to Blaise's initial dinner invitation. She thought it was strange because he was _your_ best friend."

"What do I have to do with anything?" I asked, pausing and then added, "do you like scallions?"

"I don't have anything against them." He smiled at me, and it made my insides turn, so naturally I scowled and chopped up tomatoes.

"I hate them."

Potter didn't reply so I said, "So she was going to dinner with Blaise. Not me."

"Right. She thought it'd be weird—I—she always knew—"

"Knew what?"

"Oh. Um… that you and I work together, and Zabini contracts with the Ministry. It'd be too close to home for her. She figured we'd all see each other all the time or something."

"Why? It's not like you hang out with Blaise. And I barely talk—I mean—"

Potter smirked. "You mean, you barely look at me."

"I _look_ at you," I said defiantly, making a show by stopping what I was doing and looking at Potter. He was smiling like that at me again. "I see you every morning when you smile at me by the lifts."

"And you don't talk to me."

"I don't talk to anyone."

"I'm not anyone."

"I'm not inclined to be engaging with Aurors unless addressed directly about a case matter. Ministry orders." I scowled and returned to work. The omelette needed my attention and the toast was going to burn if I didn't properly prepare it.

Potter was quiet again. I didn't speak either. Given how he was still there when I finished, I set up a place setting for two on the kitchen island and presented Potter with the option for orange juice or more coffee.

"You know I'm going to tell people this was a date," Potter said, halfway through his breakfast.

"This isn't a date," I retorted, although, it made my heart flutter.

_Stupid heart._

Not bothering, I continued. "This is you showing up at my home and me being polite. It's not my fault you look like you are ready for your cover shoot at _Witch's Weekly_."

I'd said too much.

Potter scoffed. "Well, excuse me. Not all of us can roll out of bed and look fuckable."

"Yes, you really have to _try_ to look fuckable, Potter." Why were we arguing again? And what was I saying?

"Hey. I do try!"

"Why? Everyone already wants to fuck you!"

"You don't!" Potter shouted.

"Who said I don't?" I shouted back. Okay, this time, I knew I'd _definitely_ said too much.

I watched as the words I'd said registered and Potter's expression changed. He went from looking surprised, to scowling, as if he was annoyed by my answer.

"It isn't funny, Malfoy."

"What isn't funny?"

"What you're doing right now. What you're saying to me. You don't want to date me because we work in the same building, you don't want to be friends because we shared one kiss. You don't like me, because you don't like anyone, but you want to fuck me?"

Yes, I could see why he was confused. I'd confused myself.

"I think it's best if you leave."

"Yeah, maybe it is," Potter replied, looking and sounding angry. "Maybe this was a bad idea after all."

I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. I'm not sure what I wanted but that expression on Potter's face, the disappointment he was showing me, wasn't it. I wanted him to smile at me again. The same smile he gave me at work every morning. The one he'd displayed not five minutes ago.

The one that said we could be more if I only … did something about it.

"Thank you for stopping by," I said, lamely. What was I even doing? "I appreciate you helping Blaise with his—I mean—he's quite fond of Ms Weasley—"

"So it seems," Potter said with a dry tone and my stomach pain wasn't subsiding. Somehow I'd manage to take two steps forward and one step back with Potter. And now he seemed to be cross with me, all I wanted to do was make him feel better.

"I'll consider your invitation, by the way," I said quickly as he was getting ready to step into the Floo.

Potter looked at me, confused.

"About New Year's Eve."

"Right," he said, looking unconvinced. "I won't hold my breath."

0-0-0

Christmas Day was long and tedious with Mother fussing all over me and Father ignoring me. It was actually a great day because I didn't have to talk to anyone, and because everything was being decided for me that day — what to wear, who to speak to at the Christmas party—I didn't have much time to think about Potter.

Except, it was all I did.

Every time the Floo chimed with a new guest, somehow I expected him to show up. He was invited, of course, Mother always invited everyone to the Malfoy Christmas party. He'd never attended before, and I was quite sure he wasn't going to be attending tonight.

Still, I was disappointed. And now, I didn't even have work to rely on. I couldn't look for him in the hallway and then ignore him. I didn't have to get back to work until well into the New Year. Not like the Aurors. Not like _him_.

0-0

"Do you think I could just _show_ up?" I asked Pansy about New Year's; we had retired from the party and were in my old room. I would have asked Blaise but he had other plans with his family and then he was going to Nice with Ginny.

"He didn't rescind his invitation," she said.

"No, but I mean…what if he has another date? I don't want to be a third wheel, and I don't want to arrive with Blaise—that'd be too obvious."

"So this is what you want? You want to date Potter despite all your rules, and you want to kiss him on New Year's? Like he'd said he wanted to?"

"Well, he is a good kisser," I supplied. I was such a bloody idiot.

"Then why did you push him away in the first place? I mean you cooked him breakfast for Merlin's sake!"

I shrugged looking away from her. I didn't have a proper answer to that. I never did. "It's my thing, I suppose. I don't let anyone get too close. In case they don't like what they see and leave me. It's best to not have any expectations."

"And this time?" Her voice was soft and I finally chanced a glance at her. She was looking at me like she had me all figured out. I wanted to scream.

"All I know is how he used to look at me and smile—that was good. For the past few years, every day, he'd see me in the hallway and smile. And when he was at my flat and when he didn't smile—I didn't want that. At Hogwarts…" I took in a deep breath. Bloody hell, I hoped I wasn't about to start crying. "There was a lot of hate there, but everything's changed and I feel like I'm not the same person, and I've been holding this _grudge_…"

"Why won't just you admit you fancy him?" she asked. "Say the words, Draco."

"Because I never thought about it. I never thought about any of this until when he was in my flat and how I felt like he belonged there—only after he'd left. It was easy to keep life separate in separate boxes, and now he's come in and moved the boxes around and smashed some of them—"

"He does that though, doesn't he?" she asked, laughing, "he really fucks everything up."

"Bloody hell, he does!"

0-0-0

On the morning of the thirty-first of December, I had a very important decision to make. Was I simply going to arrive at the Burrow—or was I going to arrive in style?

It was going to be a party, after all.

At two o'clock I had a crate of champagne shipped to the Weasley home with the message, "_…a thank you for the invitation._"

I received an owl from Potter not long after.

_Does this mean you've accepted the invitation?_

I didn't reply.

I had the hors d'oeuvres delivered at seven o'clock. It was nothing but pure-blood custom to extend gratitude for being invited to a festivity with providing a gift or an offering to ensure others were well-taken care of. It wasn't always food and wine, but food and wine was the Malfoy way so that's what I went with. I'm sure Weasleys bestow their own forms of gifts to get-togethers they were invited to. Most families, if they have the numbers for it, arrived early to help with set up.

I was all alone.

And didn't I know it?

In the end, I only hoped my gratitude wasn't taken for being an exhibitionist. Nevertheless, I had faith the Weasleys would be gracious towards my offerings and would not shun me. Or well, not all of them.

The longer I waited, the more nervous I became. Perhaps I was doing it all wrong. Perhaps, it was best to not attend.

At half eight, Potter Floo-called me.

"Yes?"

"What do you think you're doing, Malfoy?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"You know Ron is going out of his mind, double checking all the food and the drinks, and placing testing charms on every single item thinking you might have poisoned—"

"That's a bit much," I said.

"Can you blame him?"

Ouch. That hit close to home. "I apologise if my gratitude seemed like a ploy to poison the patrons to your party, Potter."

"Are you going to attend or did you just want to rub everyone's face in your wealth?"

Evidently, I had gone overboard. "I was actually just about to Apparate when you interrupted me."

"Can I come through?" he asked, surprising me.

"I…" I hesitated. "I am going to show as a support to Blaise. I'm unsure if it's a good idea we arrive together."

"I didn't say anything about arriving together, Malfoy. I asked if I can come to your place. Then maybe _I_ wouldn't want to go with _you_."

I rolled my eyes and lowered my wards. "Very well, then."

Potter stepped through the Floo and I nearly lost my breath. He looked _divine_. I had no idea he had such bloody sense to dress well. And dress well for a fucking party. With the way he was looking at me, all smug, he could tell I might as well have been drooling. He wore black, _tight_ trousers which I thought were silk with a well-fitted grey shirt and a black waistcoat hugging his body in _all the right_ ways. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and _holy-fuck_, evidently I had an inclination towards forearms now.

He looked sexy.

I wanted to lick his skin.

"What are you thinking right now? Tell me what that look is. Don't lie to me."

"I…" I stumbled. "I wondered if it was too late to change my mind and have you arrive by my side. I'm not sure I'd want someone else to think you _didn't_ have a date."

_Or you were obtainable._

Potter smiled. "Hell… if _that_ isn't a compliment from the mighty Draco Malfoy."

I wanted to roll my eyes but I was too busy staring at Potter's chest, his snug-shirt spread all across it and I was left wondering if the buttons were magicked on or if they would easily pop off if he flexed a few too many times. Bloody hell, I was being such a slut.

I'd never been into brawny men, but I suppose I'd never not been into Potter.

"So, shall we go?" Potter asked, yanking me out of my thoughts.

"Yes. Of course." I was stumbling over my words and had just about forgot I wasn't going to go with him.

I was supposed to play hard to get and then there he was. _Fuckable_.

0-0-0

Much to my relief, and surprise, Ron Weasley didn't corner me about whether or not my gifts were toxic. I hoped I'd assured everyone they weren't as I sipped on the champagne I'd sent over for the party. The Burrow was decorated nicely, and everything about the place reverberated peace, warmth, and love.

Now I knew why I avoided places like these—they only reminded me of how alone I was. The Malfoy Christmas gatherings were cold, standoffish, and all about displaying one's wealth. _This_ was about friends and family.

I eventually found myself in a circle of people who were mostly my co-workers, who acted as if I didn't spend the better part of my day avoiding them, and engaged each other in a heated conversation about lift etiquette. Potter looked at me and smiled a few times; I felt like _he_ was gauging my reaction to all of this, and I had to admit I was doing a decent job about not looking like I was totally freaked out.

I was completely freaked out.

I excused myself and went to find the loo. I put the empty champagne glass down, deciding I needed to take a break from the drinking, and opened the door. It wasn't, in fact, the loo, but a coat closet.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

"Malfoy…" Potter's voice was low in my ear, his warm breath made me shiver, and instead of turning around, I walked into the wardrobe. Potter followed me, and then closed the door behind us.

I cast a _Lumos_ so we both weren't awkwardly standing around in the dark. "Fancy seeing you here," I said, "again."

"Thanks for…um…coming to the party," Potter said, looking around the closet before looking at me. "I'm sure it's not easy for you to stand around talking to a bunch of strangers."

"It's tolerable," I said.

"Everyone really likes you," he said.

I snorted. "I doubt that."

"Why?" He looked so sincere, it was hard for me to be able to brush it off.

"I don't contribute much."

"But you look like you're listening and you've been _nice_."

"Merlin, try not to sound so fucking surprised."

"I'm not…I'm just…" He took a deep breath, and before I even knew it, I was stepping towards him to close the distance between us. Ever since he'd arrived at my place, fuck, in reality for who knows how long—all I'd wanted to do was kiss Potter. And right now? Right now I had the chance to do so.

"_No, I don't think this is where the toilets_—" Someone opened the door to the closet and gasped. "_Sorry, I didn't know—_"

"_Who's in there_?" Another voice

And once again, I was caught (almost) kissing Potter in the closet with half a dozen people around.

"Brilliant…" I whispered, mostly to myself.

"What can I say? People keep catching me with you in closets, Malfoy."

"Which is quite terrible given I refuse to live in one. Yet you keep dragging me in one, Potter."

Potter laughed then, and it was a good sound. It was all warm, and open, and inviting. It made me feel like it was a special laugh he'd saved only for me. It probably wasn't, but I was delusional that way.

I snaked my arm around Potter's waist and looked at the women gaping at us. "Unfortunately, this isn't the toilets, ladies. But if it's alright with you, I'd like some privacy?" The women continued to gape at us as one of them eventually closed the door.

"So…care to take advantage of us being stuck in here? I'm sure there's going to be a crowd by the time we head back out to the party." Look at me, I was all bold and shit, and I wanted Potter. It was amazing when you stopped blocking yourself from the things you'd desired.

"We could always Apparate out," Potter said. He turned to face me, his lips mere centimetres apart.

"Where would we go?" I asked, pressing out hips together. I raked my fingers through his hair before I pressed my lips against his.

He kissed me back for a minute, then, "My place," he said nonchalantly. "You've already made me breakfast. I figure it's my turn."

"That sounds _promising_."

"I hope so," he said, looking smug. "I'll even let you spend the night, and not leave you all high and dry like you did to me."

I gasped in mock offence. I wasn't offended. It was a shitty thing I'd done but I was nervous and embarrassed. Now I knew better. Now I wanted to be embarrassed with Potter knowing he'd be there to share it with me. Not abandon me.

"Yes. Yes. You're the better man, Potter. We all know and love you for it," I said rolling my eyes.

"In that case, what do you say to celebrating the end of the year in my bed?" Potter asked, sounding confident, but looking slightly vulnerable. I reckoned I would be too.

"I hope you know this doesn't mean I'm going to start being nice to you at work," I said.

Potter laughed and wrapped his arms around my waist. "I don't think you're ever going to be _nice_ to _me_, Malfoy."

And then he Apparated us to his flat.

the end

* * *

**THANK YOU FOR READING. i KNOW IT'S AWFUL. MOVE ALONG. **


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